Thank God It's Fri-Holiday!

It is 7:24 am. I am supposed to have showered and with a cup of black coffee, I should have been in the office for the daily staff meeting. But I am not.

Today is a holiday here in Manipur. It is a beautiful tribal tradition where the brothers (in the family) honor their sisters (or the women in their family). The Manipuris have realized a long long time ago the importance of women in their society. Although they maintain a patriarchal society, women are revered and respected as an equal. And the holiday starts with the sisters visiting brothers to maintain the fraternal bond and the brothers in return would give presents to the sisters.

I love this holiday. It not only commemorates the role of women in the society, but also, for my greedy reasons, allow me to sleep late (meaning at 10 PM) and wake up late (meaning at 6:30 AM). And fun because it is a Friday!

And while the streets are playing drums (as of now) and there is an unknown and unfamiliar songs in the the air, here I am on my bed typing my early morning blog. The air is festive, definitely, but the drums are not as upbeat as I expected them to be.

Anyways, I am invited later today to witness this event at a staff’s house. Of course, there will be food, so I have to prepare my stomach for real hot and spicy stuff.

I wish we have holidays like these in the Philippines. Not just the Saint’s day or something. Something solid and can identify us as a nation. Not just having festivals for the sake of festivals – one town or province copying from another town or province. Why can’t we celebrate the family? Why can’t we make it personal?

Have a grand parents appreciation day, even if your Lolo is in Jail for corruption?

Celebrate your ex-partner’s day?

Rejoice for the birth of your 14th sibling day?

And while you are thinking about your personal holidays, I would finish this and slowly ease my way back to dreamland.

The Secret of Longevity

Oshkoshbigosh…

I don’t know if I could write anything. I had a tough day. I was reviewing two protocols for the project and had to sit down and assess two national staff doctors. This was followed by a series of meeting coz donors are arriving next week.

It took me approximately 14 minutes to compose oshkoshbigosh. I figured that if I type something, it would all flow smoothly. It didn’t . Like a long line of cars in a Delhi traffic jam.

So I looked at my treasure trove of funny pics and my collection of what-nots on my laptop, I still couldn’t find anything worthy of oshkoshbigosh heading.

It was until I realized that I had emails I was saving for tonight. Norie, Chito and Marie – my co-RVs made my day!

Chito added to my S-file stories and had some new insights as to naming a simple anal evacuation… and Norie pretending not to like it, of course snubbed the whole idea. Marie, who I wished I knew for a long time (but it seems I have known her forever…) shared her vignettes on love. All of these, I am going to print in this space sometime.

The reason why I mentioned them, not because they are my friends, is that I have realized that for something to go on (such as this blog) I would need an inspiration. What better inspiration than to have friends being there and urging you to take a leap? The secret for longevity is not from viagra or food. In my case it is the support I get from friends. Definitely on top with this is the fact that I am enjoying myself!

Corny. Cliché.

But truth in its simplest form is always appealing.

I may not need to look further for inspiration. I know where to go and proceed with further ejaculations from my brain.
That my friends, is no shit.

This Game Called Love

Marie is trying to set me up with some one – through Facebook. I know that she means well, me being unattached at this age, and at the very grope of loneliness. I have been thinking about it, you know weighing things – at 3 am, as usual. I have thought it best not to go through with the Facebook matching because of the following reasons:

1. There must be better ways to met people. What happened to the good old blind dating? Wouldn’t it be exciting for me to meet some 6-foot tall supermodel? (“How’s the view from down there? Breezy, with a light touch of humidity on the anterior region…”). Sitting in a bar or a resto, trying to look like a teenage boy and girl..

2. I am romantic. Blame it on the hundreds of books that I have read (not the Mills and Boons and Barbara Cartland variety ha? --- More like Twin Valley High…. Hehehehehe), the near thousands of films I have seen (who could go wrong with Sleepless in Seattle, huh?), and of course, my environment.

I have always believed in love and being in love. And despite the ever so growing doubting Thomases in this world, I still hope that there would be someone for me. I have been in good and bad relationships before and I have never regretted any of them. I could probably say that I have managed to maintain friendships with my partners despite separating and growing out of love.

Me and my friends would sometimes discuss about relationships and it would always focus on growing old and alone. We tend, however to forget one important part of this. Choice.

Some have relationships because they WANT to be in a relationship, and others sadly, NEED to be in a relationship. Oftentimes, the results are disastrous. It is hard to be in a relationship just to please other people – say your parents want you to marry because it is not nice to grow old a spinster. And however the outcome is, a choice has to be made beforehand. Should the choice not work, add one notch to your endless stream of experiences. Just hope that you will learn from these bad choices.

I have asked someone before to marry her. She said no, because she wasn’t ready. That was her choice. I broke up with her – that was my choice.

I have recently separated from someone, and though we love each other, the distance that keeps us apart is so painful. That was our choice.

Often people blame fate – but fate is just the road. You choose the road you want to take.
In this game of love, the victors are the ones who choose the right path. And just a thought, though totally unrelated – those who say they can’t survive without love, has not actually seen suffering in this world yet. Go to Africa and lament on the plight of the hungry children!

Anyways, I am thanking Marie for thinking of me. And I don’t deny the fact that I am looking for someone. I also don’t deny the fact that I am getting lonely and worried about getting old alone. Men, by nature are social animals. We need someone, somehow, sometime.

But until I find the one for me, I’ll keep hoping.

And if that doesn't work out, maybe I’ll give the Facebook match a go – when I’m seventy.

In The Name Of...

A rose by any other name…

Why did I put “LLOYD” instead of Erwin on my blog? I don’t know, really. I could have put “bigasianboi”, or “sircumalot” or “tryinghardblogger”, but I didn’t . I think Lloyd now deserves his 15 years of fame. I was always called Erwin, known as Erwin (though pronounced differently depending on the country: Arvind in India, Erwing in Ethiopia, Herwin in Pampanga and Irvin in Germany). I hated it when Ma’am Polly in high school calls me Lloyd. I think it is so British. Now, it’s Lloyd’s payback time.

Just think. You have a short asian guy with weird first names (ERWIN LLOYD) and a much weirder family name (which I will not put here so as I will not have stalkers!) and having an American accent. Just imagine us talking on the phone, I introduce myself, then we plan to meet. In your mind’s eye you see me as (probably) tall and muscled guy with blond hair and deep blue eyes. But wouldn’t that be a big a disappointment when you meet a short but handsome (just the same) asian?

Of course fate has been kinder to me. What I lack in height, I compensate in a lot of things. Loud voice, a good conversationalist and listener, and most of all Chinese eyes that seem to say: “come to me, I care”… And oh, yeah, I sing, too.

I can’t imagine how some parents would name their children. If they were probably born during the primitive times, naming a child “Tambis” or “Pirot” or “Ugtongan” wouldn’t matter at all. I don’t know if parents chose a certain criteria, a fad, or they have a certain desire to maim their children. I don’t know if you could send your parents to jail for calling you “Mary Babalina” when you actually look like an “Abigail” or an “Ashley”.

I have friends (please forgive me for printing your names!) whose names are as follows: Serafina Naquitquitan, Vlad Menesis (pronounced as Blood Menses), Jacky Chan Lee, Maria Magdalena Santos, and the sisters Thursday Grace and Tuesday Love. I have had patients whose names where Angelina Jolie Dimangcol, Brad Pitt Burgos and of course, the famous, Courtney Cobain Mendoza.

Probably the parents were thinking –“ hmmm, I wonder if I name him this, I would sound witty….Maybe my child will be as famous as the name he/she will carry….”
I have recently read a book “ The Namesake” by Jumpa Lumpiri (I hope I got the name right). It is a story about this man who was named Gogol Ganguly, after his father’s favorite author. Anyway, it is a simple story of how a man struggles to appreciate his name, and carve his own niche as an Indian living in America. Of course, he has to go back to his roots, learn about his family’s past and embrace the tradition that so alien to him.

The moral of the story is, a name is basically that. A name. People may call you the worst sounding name in the world, but it is up to you to make something of THAT name. Others are lucky enough to have inherited their family’s infamy, but for most, it is a long hard struggle.
It didn’t actually take me long to appreciate and love my name. Though it sounds weird and a bit out of place, it is mine. And people know me for that name. I wonder if I would be the same if I was called Peter or Donnovan.

(“Dunuvan, gets down from dat tri. Or else I will calling your mader across the pens…” Imagine having a yaya like that)

It didn’t take long for me to discover that I was born to be famous. With a name like that where would I go wrong?

Wanna bet your name?

Don't Judge A Boy By What He Wears (A Business Proposal)

I have thought of putting up a business. It should be something which I love. Something which takes little monitoring. And of course, something which uses little capital.

And so it was that at 3am again today, I decided to go into the t-shirts business!

All my friends know that I am a t-shirt’s guy. I love wearing t-shirts with catchy lines and thought provoking images. Though the words doesn’t necessarily reflect on my personality, they are nevertherless fun.

One particular shirt which I love is a red-colored number which I bought in Bangkok. On the front, it says: “I gave all my money to charity.” At the back, there is a picture of a semi-naked woman on the pole saying: “Hi, my name is Charity. I charge US 50 an hour”. Of course, I can not wear that shirt to church or when meeting government officials.

Also a favorite is my green shirt with a cute, yellow from in the middle. At the back, it says: “Never been kissed”. Witty. I wore it once during a party in Maungdaw, and I have received so much unsolicited kisses from the party girls that night. Of course, some of them were drunk already.

I bought a Punjabi t-shirt in Delhi which says: “Gabru”. Literally (according to the sales girl), it means young, handsome and single. So much meaning for such a short word. This is me, I thought. It reflects me! Moi! Without further question about the price (it was a whooping 700 rupees, by the way), I chose a citrus green shirt and started to browse for some more articles. It was then that a guy came in modeling the shirt I just bought. He was about 50, big belly, and a face no plastic surgeon can handle. He had a bit of vitiligo (a skin condition causing the skin to have different pigmentations), more pronounced on his face and hands. So not Gabru. I gave my newly purchased shirt to an equally deserving guy, my former translator, Anam.

I still love my four-year-old Spoof t-shirt: Fed Up. It is of course, a spoof of Fed Ex. I wear this whenever I feel like stressed and distressed and feel like playing Californication on my ipod. Too bad the company lost some of its wit – they don’t produce nice shirts as they used to. Where were those shirts which says "Gorgeous No Money" instead of Giorgio Armani? Anything new on that side of the block?

I know that the competition for clothing biz is fierce....But hey, I have friends who can help me with the networking and be model themselves, no?

Bong, the attorney, for instance for wear a shirt which says: “No one is above the law”. And at the back, it would say: “Except me who has diplomatic immunity.”

Or Norie could a shirt saying: “C.E.O” in front, and “Woman on Top” at the back.

A bald guy could have a shirt with the writing: “Eternal Sunshine On A Spotless Head”.

A patient with mental problems could wear: "P.H.D. Alumnus" in front and "Psychiatric Health Department" at the back.

My dream line would be: “Stool, shaizer, merde” in the front and then “it’s all shit.” In the back.

Hey I could go on forever with this. Wit flows eternal on a business-inclined doctor!

Just like saying curved yellow fruits for some common fruit.

Anyone up for partners?

Think Thanks

I am touched.

I have never received as much emails as I did in the past two days... not the spams, not those nasty(!) porn pop ups, not the viagra ads or the increase your penis size ads. I received emails from friends! And I have had more than 80 visitors since I opened the blog.

Wait.... On the other hand that sounds a bit depressing. Does that mean that you guys also have the same crisis I have? hehe. Why not, most of us are almost on the same age (less) range. The fact is men are more prone to develop "crisis" than women. Yes, it is true that women loose their curves (most of them) after the third or fourth baby. Yes, it is true that women have temperaments like the weather because their hormones go bazonkas. Yes, it is true that women (in the Philippines, at least) find more meaningful things to do when they reach 30's and 40's: raising a teenage son/daughter alone coz she got pregnant when she was 15; enjoying the joys of shopping and travelling because she now owns her company; showing off a new pair of boobs or a washboard tummy thanks to her cosmetic surgeon; or they just involve themselves more with the local chapter of the Legion of Mary.

Men, on the other hand have to deal with the fact that by the time he reaches30, he would have lost half of his hair already. No toupees can cover the fact that your head appears like a landing strip in the midst of a jungle. Men also had to deal with the fact that they have been having the same position in the company for 15 years without having been promoted, or worst at woman with a Master's degree has seeped her way through the promotion ladder. And the worst part of this is the performance level behind the sheets. Of course that could now be remedied by Viagra, but would it be nice if you could rise to the occasion at the just the thought of sex?

It is actually a vicious cycle. Loss of self-esteem=doing stupid things=drinking alot of beer=doing stupid things=Loss of self-esteem. Thank God I am superior than this!

Of course, I have issues with my body. I was not blessed with a model frame so I look like an aging ewok in a teenager's body. I have age spots, beer belly, sagging neck and eyebags you can store coins in.

However, looking at some of my contemporaries, I felt I am blessed. I met an old friend from high school when I was in Iloilo once, and I couldn't recognize him.He was giving me the details as to how we have been in school together, copied (yes!) from me --- and then it occured to me that this is the high school bully! Well, look at you now -- big fat blob! We actually laughed about it - he'd better - I was treating him for beer that night.

I have had career questions but all vanished when I got totally immersed in the NGO work.

I have had love and relationship issues but I realized that with these good looks......

So when I learned that more than 80 of my friends (I don't know if I have that much friends) visited this blog, I felt touched and at home. I was actually hearing Regine's voice signing "You'll never walk alone" in the background.

And oh yeah, thanks for confirming that it is indeed pathetic to live up to this age without a partner.

Mid Life Crisis 2: Technology

I will be the first to say that I am a techno-gadget-freak. Whenever I travel, I would have an extra bag just for my gadgets: my laptop, my portable dvd/tv player, my psp, my sony ericsson mobile, my PDA, my samsung phones, my sony camera, portable speakers, my ipod touch, two sets of ear phones, portable sony ericsson modem and my blue tooth speakers.

I would drool whenever I see new gadgets on magazines. Literally.

However,I admit I am a total nincompoop when it comes to computer programs. Well maybe, I have reached techno-kindergarten so I'm a bit better that some persons. For two years now, I have carried with me my personal laptop whereever I go. I have found not only entertainment and convenience when I do reports, but sometimes it served as a sex partner (you know what I mean, don't you?). Not in the physical sense, but.... I don't think I need to elucidate.

I have been pursuing different interests lately -- facebook (yest I am on it and so is 2/3 of the whole world), and then this blog. I have started with facebook some months ago and have uploaded about 9 albums. I have been clicking images these past years and the hardest part of uploading photos to facebook is the selection of the pics! I spend more time debating which picture should be posted and which should be put on hold. It's like choosing a favorite among your children!

Faceboook is a nice way to look for long long lost friends and ignore people you don't like (who requested to be your friend). Click on the ignore button and voila! Goodbye pest!

Now this blog is a totally different thing for me. I bet my nephews would breeze through the set up gadgetry, although... they probably wouldn't be witty with words. Wink, wink.

When I started, I found it hard to choose templates and colors and fonts to best represent myself, my thoughts and sentiments. I want to find something loud but not too noisy, something mature but also has the spirit of youth. It was a hard choice between the basic black and the earthy green. In the end green won --- green thoughts?

I also found it hard to choose the items and gadgets to be placed on the side bars. I don't know what adsense is, nor the techno-stuff attached to this blog! I JUST WANT TO WRITE!!!!

Pics, I have no problems with. I have a chest load of good stuff and can easily find appropriate accompaniments to my posts.

So there. The downside of technology.

Okay. Gotta stop here. I am accompanying a friend to buy his first Black Berry.

Temptations. It's like being a poor orphan in a candy shop.

How I do turn this thing off?

Food For Thought

I went to this posh resto in Delhi, about 30 minutes away from our house in Defence Colony. The place is in Greater Kalash II, next to a couple of posh bistros and resto. The place has been mentioned in a lot of travel books and food magazines, so it merited a visit from us. Though parking was a bit of a problem, the restaurant offered what others have not - ambiance. The food was amazingly good and amazingly expensive as well. Being poor volunteers, we ordered salad as starters, and most of the team had fillet mignon while I had the Himalayan trout. We ended the dinner with a cup of espresso and a serving of creme broulee. Looking around, I noticed that it was also a very posh crowd. I wondered where Victoria Beckham was.... The bill was enough to support a family of 8 from a small country in Africa for two months.

Dinner conversation rotated around food and nice restos in some distant country. I interjected my Bihar experience - trying to be funny. But then my joke backfired! Nobody seemed to have noticed but I immediately stopped short in my statement and just shied away from the conversation. I swear I stopped eating my salad (for a brief moment).

The main reason is that, people are starving in Bihar. Just after the flood, tens of thousands of men, women and children left their homes to move into camps. These people carried what little they had and lived in these camps around the main towns, hoping for at least 1 square meal everyday. Some had to walk for miles to have lunch or dinner then walk back home in the evening. Others would be starving because they came from other districts, and because they have no political affiliations (most food camps are ran by politicians). The same in Ethiopia where people would travel to Abdurafi to look for work so they could have money during the hunger gap. Most of them don't come back because they either have Kala Azar, Malaria or die from starvation.

Probably this situation is the same all over the world.

Anyways, enough of dampening the spirit. I really did enjoy that dinner. One of my friends noticed my uneasiness and unusual silence; and he asked if I was okay. I told him what I thought and he started to laugh. " Escape your world for a brief moment," he said.

" The world will still be the same tomorrow."

With that said and probably a split second thinking --why not?

We then fought for the last bit of creme broulee on the bowl.

Kava Nights and Restless Dreams

Since I met Chito and Norie last July in the Philippines and had rounds of drinks and rowdy singing at this very obscure-looking place in Ermita, I have had wild cravings for Kava. For those who are not the adventuro-totoys, Kava (Piper methisticum forster spp) is a native plant of the pacific. I admit, I was addicted to it for some time and so were 90% of the volunteers who went to live and work in Vanuatu! Of course, Chito and I became masters but I became a notch higher than him because I have had experiences with Kava plus some additives on it (secret!).

Anyways kava is grown in the pacific and harvested at a particular time (after about 4-5 months). The roots are then cleaned, chopped (or grated) and juiced so a brownish-mud-looking liquid is produced. There is an intoxicating smell characteristic of a good variety and a mud-like smell of the not-so-good kind. The effect, once you drink the liquid is variable. The first time I tasted it, I vomitted like a girl-with-anorexia-after-eating. It is an acquired taste...really! So, once you have tasted it, there is a tingling sensation on your lips and tongue and later numbness on the oral cavity. There will be an urge to spit (or sometimes, regurgitate) and should the cavity have its "peace" with you, a sense of calm and "highness" would be felt. I have had "funny" experiences with Kava but that would be another post!

Since Kava is a downer, it is used in rituals and ceremonies in Vanuatu. The chiefs would call warring tribes and offer kava as a gesture of peace. These days, nakamals (kava bars) are just there to hang out, chill and meet friends. A bit of a social get-together, actually.

So Chito has this precious pack of Kava with him and though it is expired, he treats it like it's mint money from the US treasury. In fairness, he did invite me to drink with him, but heck! I stayed in good old 'pinas for only a couple of days so I wasn't able to taste the longed for drink! And just that thought that it is there, available - made me dream of it! But just wait, expired or not expired, we will take a sip of that when I come back home.

I was also dreaming of Vanuatu for months now - missing my "family" and friends, the paradise that is Ambae, and the not so hurried life in the island. Waking up to the sound of the waves clashing against the white sand beaches, the ever-green trees, the friendly smiles of the people - I really am missing my island paradise! Kava (now, I am rationalizing) is probably just an expression of my longing to go back to Vanuatu.

Man, naoia me reli wantem go back long wei. Mi no save, be kantri ia i gat sam sam magic i kasem long me...

Signs Galore

The japs got us. I was in stitches the moment I received my first funny Engrish photo. Well, have a look at these nice ones. Start from the Sexual Harassment company and end with the Erection Party!

Does this remind you of a liquid literature?

They are also downloading songs by Avrir Ravinge, Red Zepperin and of course, Jurio Igresias.

Hurry now!

If you want to let people know what you want to say, first confuse them.

And now my personal addition..

I took this pic in Dhaka, Bangladesh. If Rong Tuli is a quality fashion wear, I wonder what a Right Tuli would be. Hmmm... (For non-Filipino readers, Tuli means circumcision)

Weight A Minute

I have recently met a lady from the states. She is in her 50's but she looked more than 70. Well, it didn't help that I opened the door for her at 1 a.m., but she indeed looked (help me out here, I'm trying to be diplomatic) -- famished. Must be the jet lag, I thought.

In the next few days I discovered that she eats only 4 crackers a day. Worst she had Giardiasis (a diarrheal disease caused by Giardia lamblia) and had to visit Mr. Loo several times a day. I thought it must be a divine joke being played on her.

Anyways, her weight made me realize one thing about me ever-so-enlarging abdomen. I have been on a beer and rice diet the past few months and I have gained some unsightly but extremely sexy curves. Heck, I even have man-boobs now!

So I devised a plan even Kate Moss woould be so jealous of.

1. Drink only whisky, vodka and Gin. Keep away from the beer. Only drink beer when they are super cold that a single gulp can quench your soul. If a single gulp is not enough, have another bottle just to satisfy your psyche.

2. Reduce rice. Except on days when the cooks would prepare pork.

3. Drink lots of water. Do this after you have taken several bottles of beer. This is also a good way to hydrate yourself.

4. Eat fruits in the morning. In places where fruit is difficult to procure, have a cup of left-over rice.

5. Avoid colas and other fattening drinks. My friend Ann Rexia said that Coke is the devil's way of making people fat.

There. That's my sure fire way of slimming down.

Oh yeah.. I specifically omitted exercise. I just don't do it. Lifting the beer bottle is enough exercise as it is for my fragile body.

The S - Files

My friend Norie would cringe at this. Whenever we had dinner with Tito Roger and Tita Lucy in Vanuatu, the topic which would elicit a lot of reactions (good and bad) would be about shit. Tita Lucy would lovingly hit Tito Roger for bringing the topic up; and Chito and I would relish at the fact that they would loose appetite (less for them, more food for us).

Well, shit, in different forms and names smells the same. Shaizer, etsas, mo-erns, tae. In the Philippines alone, there are more than 10 lingos for the odorous excreta. There is, infact a Bristol stool chart to describe and illustrate the different artistic forms of plain old shit.

Recently I have been in Bihar, the northern state of India bordering Nepal. I was there for an explo/assessment and later came back to start clinics in one of the blocs. Bihar, is the poorest of the Indian states - infrastructure-wise and, probably, with access to education, too. Health education, that is.

As we entered the different districts in the bloc, you could smell the waft of fermented stools in the air. Some have a hint of curry and the others just plain shit sunning under the sun. You could, also see people of different size, age, color and sex, squatting on the side of the road. I tried to focus my gaze on something different, on the floods,for instance or the humid air. I tried to concentrate on my ipod and focus on the nine-hour drive, but all that keeps running in my mind are is the visual terrorism - open field shitting!

A few hours more and we were in the heart of the flooded state. The scene is still the same - men,women and children shitting without a care in the world. I have coined the coined a term: merde al fresco. Mamma mia!

In the few weeks that I was there and my nose became acomodated to the smells, I managed to ask the locals why SIP (Shitting in Public) is common. The guy, stood proud and in a clear voice told me: "We fertilize the earth".

I slightly gagged and secretly hoped that Al Gore was there to witness it.

First Midlife Attack

I have been in the humanitarian business for almost seven years now. Half of that was in this beautiful place in the Pacific, Vanuatu, about a year and a half in Africa (Malawi and Ethiopia), fifteen months in Myanmar and I now here in India.

I have slept in black cotton soil uder the pouring rain, waded through flood, saved 120 families in Bihar, operated on a hundred patients and, took thousands of photos, shook hands and did beso-beso with other expatriates and dranks a vat of alcohol.

I have been praised, discriminated, questioned, supported, urged, encouraged and enraged. I have witnessed, advocated, provoked, assisted, consulted, gave and guided.

Despite all these (the travels and experience), I never had a long-term relationship. I know it's a sob story. But it is just so difficult to maintain relationships when you are travelling around the world trying to save the dying and the desperate.

I remember a friend once said: "Don't think of yourself as salvador del mundo. At certain times you need someone to save you." We have had a huge discussion about it because I never saw myself as such. I try to maintain a balance between my sanity and my work and it has worked quite effectively.

Until a few weeks ago.

I just realized that I am getting old.

And I am not married yet. And in these times, I needed someone to save me.

The Birth of My Blog

My friends have blogs. Hell, even those who don't know how to write have blogs. I don't have one and I have the inkling to write.
It's 3 am and I am house sitting here in Delhi (India). I couldn't sleep despite the fact that I have watched three movies already - Mongol, Misconception and Baraka. So there I was, tossing and turning, after about 7 hours of non-stop visual attacks. And then epiphany!
Why not create my blog page now?
And so here I am 9 am and still typing my thoughts away.
Nice time to spend Saturdays.